


The Cuffs of Truth

by leiascully



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-07
Updated: 2007-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cuddy throws a Halloween party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cuffs of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: post-S3  
> A/N: For [](http://savemoony.livejournal.com/profile)[**savemoony**](http://savemoony.livejournal.com/), who wanted Cuddy in a Wonder Woman costume. Great inspiration and the line about epoxy were taken from [this episode of Howse](http://community.livejournal.com/mspaint_lolz/10961.html) by [**pirate_eggie**](http://pirate-eggie.livejournal.com/). Thanks to [**queenzulu**](http://queenzulu.livejournal.com/) for handholding. Happy Smut Tuesday!  
> Disclaimer: _House M.D._ and all related characters are the property of Shore Z, Bad Hat Harry, and Fox. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

"How the hell did you get us into this one?" House snarled.

"Me!" Wilson yelped, jangling the handcuffs that linked their hands to Cuddy's bed. "Hah! You were the one who said we should come to her Halloween party in the first place!"

"You dragged us down this hallway," House argued.

"Hey, I was just looking for the bathroom," Wilson said. "Nobody invited you."

House grumbled and tested his bonds. It had all been something of a blur. He'd drunk a lot of Cuddy's Halloween punch while making fun of Cameron, who had painted the world on her pregnant belly and was pretending to be Gaia, who wasn't even a superhero, and who showed up to a superhero-themed party without a costume? Then he'd made fun of Chase, who was wearing plastic Batman muscles with the nipples standing out. Then he'd had to piss, so he'd grabbed Wilson's cape and followed him down the hall. He'd done some fine pissing by any standards, rinsed his hands perfunctorily at Wilson's disgusted look, and flopped down on Cuddy's bed, just to make trouble. After that it was pretty fuzzy: Cuddy had showed up in that goddamned Wonder Woman costume, the one that practically demanded that they ogle her breasts. She had done some leaning-over, heaving-bosom trick that boggled the mind and distracted him. Now he had one hand and one foot tied to the bed with Velcro cuffs, and the other two handcuffed to Wilson's hand and foot respectively.

No doubt on this one, they were up shit creek without a paddle.

"Still your fault," he hissed at Wilson, who was no doubt rolling his eyes. "What are you wearing, anyway? You look like an idiot."

"I'm Robin," Wilson said, sounding hurt. "It was almost your idea. You're the one who called me the Boy Wonder."

"Well, now you're Chase's bitch, because he's Batman." House sulked. "Just be glad it wasn't Foreman. I hear he's brutal in bed. Biggest dick in the department."

"I'm not sleeping with Chase!" Wilson said, almost squeaking.

"How do you know what our wicked dean has planned?" House pointed out. "Look how easily she made this happen. She could probably make us do anything after all that punch. And the cleavage."

Wilson whimpered.

"She probably could," said Cuddy from somewhere else in the room, and House craned his head to find her. She did look luscious in that costume: breasts pressed so high he was surprised she wasn't suffocating, the fabric tight around her firm hips and thighs, a tiny tiara nestled in her dark hair. Her tiny skirt flared six inches above her mid-thigh red patent leather boots. House could feel his cock stirring. He longed for the painfully quick and inconvenient hardons of his teenage years. Maybe she'd ride him hard and set him loose before he started to lose circulation in his wrists.

"So you've got us where you want us," he challenged her. "What are you going to do?"

"Oh," she said, "I'll think of something." She settled herself in an armchair, crossing her legs with luxurious slowness. House's neck was aching from trying to stare at her; he rolled his head down onto the pillow and glared down the length of Wilson's body instead. Wilson flinched and House guffawed.

"You've got a boner from all this? Wilson, you kinky bastard."

"I can't help it!" Wilson protested. "She's glued into that thing and she's got that wicked look on her face. I can't believe you're not hard."

"Vicodin," House said smugly. "Slows the reaction. I can whiskey dick it all night if my balls don't fall off. Or maybe it's just discretion. Anyway, bad taste to talk about another guy's johnson. You should know better."

"You started it!" Wilson squeaked.

"Boys, boys," Cuddy said, her voice cutting cleanly through their bickering. "I think you've both got more important things to think about, such as what I might do to to those johnsons."

"She's got a point," House said, rattling his wrist against Wilson's. "Maybe we should play nice."

"We don't have much of a choice," Wilson said out of the side of his mouth.

"Dude, she can hear you. Cut the sotto voce crap."

"She can hear you," Cuddy said amiably. "Maybe she should just leave you here for your fellows to find later."

"That's playing dirty," House growled, rolling his head up again.

Cuddy stood and stretched, her breasts threatening to heave over the edge of her costume. "Just a little reminder that I'm in charge."

Wilson whimpered.

"Don't worry," Cuddy said, "I'll take this slow."

"You," House ground out, "are a wicked, wicked woman." The tendons in his neck were standing out. Cuddy licked one fingertip, leaned over, and traced the corded muscles. He gritted his teeth as her fingernails scraped along his neck. She slid over him, straddling him carefully, and dipped her mouth to the base of his throat. He hissed as she sucked hard at his throat, shifting his hips up against her. She laughed and rolled away, curling against Wilson. House pushed his hip against her ass but she ignored him and ran her hands down Wilson's chest. He could glimpse her fingers over the cloud of her teased hair; her manicured nails gleamed against Wilson's ridiculous spandex.

"Am I just going to sit her during your makeout session with your head of oncology?" House demanded, Cuddy's hair brushing over his shoulder. "People are going to think you're playing favorites."

"People already do," Wilson said, sounding a little breathless and a little muffled. "She created a new department for you, for God's sake."

"All the more reason she shouldn't spread herself around," House grumbled.

She turned to him, that familiar look of fond outrage on her face. "I can't decide whether it's charming or outrageous that you think you're going to get any action if you keep calling me a slut."

"Precedent," he sneered, and she pinched his belly and slung her leg over Wilson. House squirmed as Cuddy slid against Wilson, making those irresistible little moaning noises. Wilson was moaning too, gasping sounds that made House think of where those slim fingers were squeezing and stroking. Wilson kicked out suddenly and caught House in the ankle. "Ow!"

"Quit whining, you baby," Cuddy said. "I tied you with your bad leg on the outside for a reason." She pressed noisy kisses to Wilson's face as her hand cupped Wilson's spandex-covered cock. "You know you're an idiot, Wilson? Who wears a costume with no easily reachable zippers?"

"You said superheroes," Wilson moaned. "I couldn't find anything that said Detachable Crotch Man or E-Z Open. I didn't think I was getting laid tonight."

"Prepare for every opportunity, grasshopper," House said smugly, trying to turn himself over, or at least rub his finally burgeoning erection against .

"Shut up," Cuddy said. "You didn't even come in costume."

"I'm undercover," House insisted. "Pre-transformation. Not my fault you don't have a handy phone booth."

"Maybe you could try the closet," Cuddy said, reaching back to brush her fingers over his crotch. "Given how turned on you are by being in a bed with your male best friend."

"And my Lycra-clad, bustier-wearing hottie boss!" House yelped. "Christ, woman, you expect anyone with a pulse not to be aroused when you're playing Wonder Woman? Your tits must be held up by industrial epoxy and a system of levers and pulleys."

Wilson made a strangled squeak and yanked at the cuffs before going limp.

"Oh, I can't believe you," House said. "James Wilson, ladies' man, boy wonder, often and _early_ between the sheets."

"Shut up, House," Wilson groaned. "You haven't felt her hands."

"Hope that thing's not rented," House snarked.

"You'll get yours," Wilson panted.

"You know," Cuddy said with a thoughtful grin, "I think he will." House whipped his head towards the sound of ripping Velcro.

"Ah," said Wilson, and rolled onto his side, peering at House over Cuddy's shoulder. "Much better." Before House could protest, the Velcro cuffs were around his wrist, his arm and leg stretched painfully toward the other side of the bed. Cuddy pulled a tiny silver key from her cleavage and unlocked the metal handcuffs.

"Oh, not fair," House said as Wilson caught at his belt loops and dragged him into the center of the bed. The tension on his wrist and ankle eased, but his belt was biting into his hip. Wilson stood over him, gloating, one arm around Cuddy's waist. House smirked: there was a damp stain spreading across the front of Wilson's tights.

"What do you think we ought to do with him?" Wilson murmured into Cuddy's ear, apparently nibbling at her earlobe.

"Oh, I have a number of ideas," Cuddy said, putting her hands coquettishly on Wilson's chest. "Make sure the door is locked."

"The door wasn't locked?" Wilson's voice reached registers usually heard in girls' high school locker rooms. House tugged at his bonds. Cuddy had made sure the Velcro was tight. Whatever else he was tempted to call her, she was thorough. She leaned down over him as Wilson skittered for the door.

"Guess we're going to see if you've got any super powers after all," she whispered, bracing herself over his chest.

"If anyone's going to transform me, it's got to be you," he mumbled back. She slid her deft little hands down his side and started to unbuckle his belt. He flexed his wrists again, hoping to get his hands on her, but she just smirked. Wilson came back to the bed and trailed his hands up the inside seam of House's jeans. He reached under Cuddy's glittering groin and dragged House's zipper down, tooth by tooth. The metal grated over the thin fabric that covered his erection.

"Let's make a deal," Cuddy said. "I'll give you one hand."

"One hand when you're double teaming me?"

"Take it or leave it."

"Fine." He pouted as she unbuckled the right cuff, then reached around and slapped her ass as soon as his hand was free. She narrowed her eyes at him. He felt the muscles of her ass flex under his palm.

"House," Wilson warned. "Be good."

"I can handle him," Cuddy said. "You just take care of your end."

"Did you have this planned all along?" House asked suspiciously.

"You never had a chance," Cuddy said, the smug look on her face ridiculously attractive.

Wilson grunted and whipped House's belt out of the loops. He tugged House's jeans down gently, leaving House in his boxer-briefs. House flinched a little, but Wilson slid a careful hand down the side of House's thigh, easing the denim over the scar. House slipped his fingers up under Cuddy's ridiculous little skirt, reaching between her legs. She shifted against his hand and the patent leather of her boots squeaked as she leaned forward and kissed him. Her mouth was wet and hungry and she hummed a little as her tongue brushed his. House twisted his fingers inside the stretchy fabric of her leotard. She was slick and welcoming, rolling her hips against his hand as he spread her folds. Her knees squeezed his ribs. His wrist rubbed against the top of her boots.

"Don't have too much fun up there," Wilson said, and stuck his hand down House's boxer-briefs. He palmed House's cock and House hissed into Cuddy's mouth. Wilson manipulated House's cock up and over the waistband of his boxers and House's jerked as Wilson's hot mouth descended suddenly over his own throbbing erection. He yelped against Cuddy's lips. Wilson's lips were soft and his fingers played over House's bared hipbone. House groaned.

"Shut up," she said, "you want to tell the whole party you're getting laid?"

"Might as well announce it," he said, "pretty rare."

Wilson did something with his tongue and House stopped being able to form words. He thrust his fingers reflexively into Cuddy and she rocked against his hand. It was all he could manage to rub his thumb over her clit. His fingertips reached for her g-spot as the world went liquid around the edges. Wilson had a knack for what he was doing, lips and tongue and the hint of his teeth through the silk of his lips. Fortunately, Cuddy knew what she wanted and how to get it. Between the heat flaring between her hips and the heat stirring in his own body from Wilson's, his abdomen felt like it was about to start sizzling. Wilson's tongue dabbled up and down his shaft and House couldn't keep from thrusting up into Wilson's mouth. Wilson tightened his fingers on House's hipbones and Cuddy bore down on his hand.

"Gonna give me a wrist cramp," House panted against her throat.

"You'll live," she growled, grinding her clit against his thumb, making little desperate noises. Wilson swirled his tongue over House's head and poked the tip into the urethra, and shit, House was going to lose it. He bucked hard, his thigh rubbing against Wilson's cheek, and Wilson held him down as Cuddy bit down on her lip and pressed her face into his shoulder, her muscles clenching around his fingers. Wilson hummed something and that was it, House's balls were clenching, and the heat rushed out of him as his head tipped back against the pillow. Wilson and the weight of Cuddy on his chest held him down firmly as he quivered. After a moment Wilson lifted his head, licking his lips.

"You swallow?" House rasped, his own lips suddenly dry and hot.

Wilson shrugged. "Beats cleanup."

House half-laughed, still breathing hard. He pulled his damp fingers out of Cuddy and wiped them on her bedsheets. She made a disgruntled noise and cuddled into his chest, her hair tickling his face. Wilson lazily undid the Velcro cuff on House's right ankle and then flopped on House's still-pinioned arm.

"Not going to let me loose?" House said drowsily.

"You're a danger to society," Wilson grunted, and Cuddy mumbled her agreement.

"Too much," House yawned, "stupid punch. Might as well...nap. Wilson can't leave the room anyway. Sticky situation. All those...subordinates."

"Shut up," said Cuddy into his neck.

"Happy Halloween to you too, witch," he said.

"House," said Wilson into the pillow, "you're like an apple with a razor blade in it. An apple that just keeps talking."

"Better work on your similes," House said, but he closed his eyes with a smile.


End file.
